An Unforgiving Past
by peace-and-war
Summary: “She was woken by the doorbell, she sat up, half afraid to answer the door, unsure of who it was, unsure of what to expect.” Cameron relives after seventeen years, the attack on her life. Will everything crumble again? Chapter Rating: T
1. The Reminder

**Hey everyone! Um.. this story is just a random thought process, I have no idea where I'm going to take it, including pairings etc.  
Plotlines encouraged, pairing suggestions welcome.  
Anyway, have fun reading.**

**I DO NOT OWN HOUSE OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS. DS does, and one day they will be miiiine! Mwhahaha.**

**xx peace-and-war**

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**Chapter 1- The Reminder**

"For the love of god..." Cameron looked around the ER. It was in total chaos. It was overflowing with victims from a supposed chemical inhilation scare, and she was the only doctor in sight.  
She stopped the nearest nurse.  
"Where is Dr Kellel?"  
"How should I know? I just got on duty." The nurse walked away, probably to admit another patient.  
Cameron stopped at the nurses desk, and pulled the first file of the stack.  
She read the name on the file. 'Jeremy Tusker..' She read in her head. 'That name sounds familiar.'  
She walked into the cubicle where Jeremy was lying down. She saw the face, those dark eyebrows, those impossibly grey lifeless eyes. All the blood drained out of her face, all emotions except fear left her body. She quickly turned around and walked out, she couldn't face him let alone treat him. She quickly dumped the file on the nurses desk and ran out of the ER.  
"Dr Cameron!" The nurse called out after her, but there was no way she was going back in there, not with Him in there.  
She made it out to the front steps of the hospital, and sat down. There was no way of controlling the tears runnign down her face, and no way to stop her body shaking. He was here, and she was supposed to treat him? After he did to her?  
She started to hyperventilate as she remembered that night.

_"Jeremy, c'mon." They were in a side alley, next to the nightclub they just left. She knew they were out there for a reason, but she was not going to give in. Not while he was high.  
He was holding on to her arm, it was starting to hurt her, it was starting to cut off her circulation.  
"Seriously Jeremy, let go!"  
"No." His grey eyes bored into her blue ones. She knew what he wanted, but she wasn't going to give it to him. Not while he was like this.  
"Jeremy, you're scaring me."  
"Good." She was starting to get seriously freaked out. She was only sixteen, he was eighteen, not only was he older, he was physically bigger and stronger.  
"Jeremy, LET ME GO!" She yelled in his face. His hand travelled to his pocket, he pulled out his 6 inch switchblade. He flicked it open and stuck it to her throat.  
"Fuck me bitch!"  
"NO!"  
He lost it, he threw her to the ground, started kicking and punching her. She was rolling around on the concrete, she felt her left arm break, and she felt her fingers on her right hand snap.  
He stopped, only for a minute. The next thing she knew, she felt a stabbing pain in her left side, she saw the knife sticking out from under her ribcage. She felt him pull it out and crouch down next to her.  
"How do you like that, bitch?" He stood up, spat on her and ran away.  
She felt the life dripping away from her, she screamed out a half-hearted help. Then she slipped into the darkeness. _

She felt the bile rising in her throat, she was still scared from that night, she didn't stop it coming, and she leaned back on the cool concrete. The scar on the left hand side of her back was beginning to ache. She was lucky to have been found  
"You okay Cameron?" It was Foreman.  
"Yeah. I'm fine."  
"You don't look fine." Foreman surveyed the woman in front of him. Her blonde hair was pushed back from her face, her face was pale and slightly sweaty, and her body was shaking.  
"Seriously. I'm fine."  
"Okay." He sat down next to her.  
"Did you see the fight between House and Wilson earlier?" Foreman changed the subject.  
"The one in the cafeteria?"  
"Yeah. It took three nurses, two orderlies and a bottle of water to get them apart."  
Cameron laughed. Wilson was still obviously angry at House, but House must have provoked Wilson.

"Dr Cameron?"  
Cameron looked around. It was the nurse who called out to her as she ran out of the ER.  
"Yes?"  
"Dr Kettel wanted to know if you were coming back to the ER."  
"Uh, yeah." She stood up and turned around.  
"See you later Foreman."  
"Bye Cameron."

Tusker was still in the cubicle when she went back in.  
"Gonna treat me now are ya?"  
"Do you actually have anything wrong with you, or are you just faking it?"  
She picked up his chart, he had a fever of 101.6, and was coughing up blood.  
"Do you do drugs?"  
"Only since I was fourteen."  
"Oh yeah... I forgot that." She muttered under her breath.  
"So are you going to give me some drugs bitch?"  
"Nope." She dumped the chart back on the bed.  
"You sound familiar bitch."  
"Really." She walked right over to him and looked him in the eyes.  
"Maybe it's because you left me for dead. That ring any bells?" Her voice was low and full of contempt.  
Tuskers eyes narrowed in disgust. "You whore."  
"When did you get out of jail?"  
"Three months ago."  
Cameron's eyes went narrow and her body stiffened.  
"I should have left you for dead."  
"You did."  
"Well I should have finished you off."  
"Yeah, well you didn't."  
He sat up and looked at her. He just stared at her. She backed away, she'd seen that look before and that was just before he tried to kill her.  
Before she knew it he had lunged at her, his hands trying to wrap around her throat.  
"HELP!" She screamed out. Seventeen years of feeling safe at night were coming to an end.  
Two nurses ran to the cubicle to see Tucker choking Dr Cameron. She was trying to fight him off. She was punching, scratching, but he would just not let go.  
Security came running and tackled him back onto the bed.  
She just stood there, the one reminder of her past, back again. It was like deja vu.


	2. Semantics

Thanks to Amylia Lucy-Faith (aka amypinkpoison) for betering this for me, love and hugs.

**Chapter 2- Semantics**

"Piss off."

As she was aimlessly pushing her salad around her plate, a shadow edged into her eye line as she was staring at the floor.

"Nice to see you too Cameron."

She rolled her eyes and looked up to find the source of the voice. She knew it was House, before she even looked up, but she needed the validation of actually seeing him.

"Don't you have anyone else to bother?"

"Nope."

He sat down across from her without waiting for the invitation he knew wouldn't come.

"Well _I_ don't want to be bothered, thanks."

He stared at her, ignoring the sharp warning to leave her alone.

"I heard about what happened in the ER before."

She was quick to step up though, shooting a withering glance his way and not hesitating in replying in a somewhat challenging tone.

"I heard about what happened in here before. Care to share?"

"Nope. But your story, much more interesting."

He didn't blink, refusing to let this one go.

"Interesting, no. Painful yes. I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't just get strangled without a reason."

She pushed the salad away from herself, knowing he wasn't going to back down but not willing to give him what he wanted. She had to hold back a smirk as he visibly tensed when she leaned toward him.

'The reason is... none of your business.'

She stood up, but before walking off and leaving him without the answers he came for, she glanced back over her shoulder, "You can have the salad if you want it."

He watched her walk out of the cafeteria. The salad was sitting in front of him, he grimaced, he wasn't really a salad person.

There _had_ to be a reason for the ER incident today, so if one person wasn't willing to talk, he had to get it out of the other.

"Hello apparently-dying patient."

He walked into the room to find his latest patient, Tusker, shackled to the bed.

"Who the fuck are you?"

And this patient didn't seem overly pleased to be there.

"The doctor that has been assigned to your case until either you die, or we figure out what's wrong with you. Personally, I'd prefer to just let you die. Granted, there's more paperwork, but then I don't get the horrible feeling in my stomach that I've once again saved a life. They kinda outweigh each other. What do you think?"

"Screw you."

This guy really wasn't in the mood for games…but that just made House want to toy with him more.

"No, thanks. I prefer it when the ladies do that."

Tusker was starting to get irritable, the red colour rising in his cheeks. Not that he could do much, being chained to the bed and all.

"Why don't you go jump of a fucking cliff?"

House pointed to his leg in mock self-pity.

"Can't get a good enough run up."

Tusker simply glared at him.

"Why did you try to strangle Dr. Cameron before?"

House just needed to know. This was one of the pieces of his Cameron Jigsaw that he couldn't let go. There had to be a reason and he had to know what it was. If Cameron herself wouldn't tell him, then this was one person he'd make sure he got it out of. After all, Tusker was tied to the bed. He couldn't walk away like Cameron could.

Tusker's face darkened as he heard her name. He turned his head, grinding his words out between his teeth, pure contempt conveyed clearly in his tone.

"Why don't you ask her?"

"Can't. You see, she can't talk right now. Y'know how it is, she needs to talk to Workers Comp, the psychiatrist and our boss. And when you have to talk to our boss, that's serious. She's like a praying mantis. Cameron might never leave her office, and if we never see her again then we'll never find out then, will we?"

Tusker ignored House's snark, only one thing registering in his mind.

"She's gonna try to get more fucking compensation outta me?! She's out of her fucking mind."

"What do you mean _'more'_ compensation?"

"She's the one who got me fucking locked up and sued me a hundred thousand for special compensatory damages."

House considered the man's words for a moment, the puzzle of Allison Cameron becoming even more difficult to decipher. Without another word, he turned around and headed toward the door, ignoring the questions Tucker was yelling to him.

"Dr. Cameron, I know you don't want to be here, but you need to talk this out. A patient that tried to kill you seventeen years ago turned up here today on your shift. Doesn't that bring up any memories?"

"Of course it does, and I don't want to talk about them. That's in the past and I just want to forget about it."

The psychiatrist sighed softly, used to the denial phase with all the patients she saw on a regular basis.

"Well, you can't go back to work until I've cleared you to go back. You've got to stop fighting me. I'm not the enemy, I'm here to help you."

Cameron hesitated, choosing a spot on the floor to steady an intense gaze on. Picking at one of her nails, a distraction technique that always resurfaced when she was nervous or uncomfortable, she closed her eyes for a moment. Opening them again, she sighed and eventually found her words.

"Fine. Seventeen years ago I…dated Jeremy Tusker. He wanted sex, I didn't. He beat me up, stabbed me and left me to die. Obviously, I'm here today, so he didn't succeed. But he was close. I was revived by the paramedics and spent three months in hospital because the knife had shredded my left kidney. I needed a transplant, amongst other things."

The memories were difficult, and she swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in her throat as she subconsciously touched her side where there was still a scar to constantly remind her of the ordeal. The psychiatrist stayed quiet, nodding her encouragement and not wanting to interrupt Cameron's recall.

"When I was well enough, my parents insisted we prosecute, even though all I wanted to do was forget he even existed. He got twenty-five years without parole, but I guess he got out at some point. I don't know, I put him out of my mind, tried to get on with my life, and suddenly he showed up here today vomiting blood. I'm a doctor; I couldn't exactly refuse to treat him. I tried to get one of the other doctors to see to him, cause as little disruption as possible. Just because he's a criminal, we still have to treat him. But we're short staffed, and I had no choice but to go in there. He recognised me, the person who'd put him in jail all those years ago, and tried to kill me again…"

"That's really good progress Allison."

"Yeah.." Cameron didn't meet the psychiatrist's eyes. "May I go now?"

The psychiatrist nodded. At least they'd got _somewhere._

"As long as you come back on Friday for another session."

Cameron didn't seem to really register what she was agreeing to as she nodded. She was numb from all the memories that were flooding her.

All she wanted to do was go home. Go home and forget the day, possibly with the bottles of wine in her fridge. Break her ban on alcohol, and travel down that well-worn road of happiness, euphoria…leading to withdrawal and hysteria. That didn't scare her anymore.

After sitting in her car for a few moments, trying to get her head together and collect her thoughts, she fumbled with the keys and finally switched on the ignition. As she did so, Gary Jules' voice began to pour out around her, and for a moment she closed her eyes, letting it wash over her.

_**All around me are familiar faces**_

_**Worn out places**_

**Worn out faces**

_**Bright and early for the daily races**_

_**Going no where**_

_**Going no where**_

_**Their tears are filling up their glasses**_

_**No expression**_

_**No expression**_

_**Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow**_

"Got that right, Gary."

She muttered under her breath as she opened her eyes and sighed, pulling out of the parking space and glancing at the retreating body of the hospital in her rear-view mirror.

_**No tomorrow**_

**_No tomorrow_**

_**And I find I kind of funny**_

_**I find it kind of sad**_

_**The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had**_

**I find it hard to _tell_ you**

_**I find it hard to take**_

_**When people run in circles it's a very, very**_

_**Mad world**_

_**Mad world**_

Just as her thoughts were beginning to soothe, the words of the song lulling her somewhat, whilst at the same time stirring feelings she'd long since buried, a car cut in front of her and jerked her out of her reverie.

"Fucking asshole!"

She screamed, slamming on the horn and hitting the steering wheel in frustration, taking it out on no one in particular.

_**Children waiting for the day they feel good**_

**_Happy birthday_**

_**Happy birthday**_

_**And I feel the way that every child should**_

_**Sit and listen**_

_**Sit and listen**_

_**Went to school and I was very nervous**_

_**No one knew me**_

_**No one knew me**_

"No one cared enough to know me."

The tears were starting to well up in her eyes as she fought them back, the words that were filtering through the speakers hitting harder than she could handle right now.

_**Hello teacher**_

_**Tell me what's my lesson**_

_**Look right through me**_

_**Look right through me**_

_**And I find I kind of funny**_

_**I find it kind of sad**_

_**The dreams in which I'm dying**_

_**Are the best I've ever had**_

_**I find it hard to tell you**_

_**I find it hard to take**_

_**When people run in circles it's a very, very**_

_**Mad world**_

_**Mad world**_

_**Enlarging your world**_

_**Mad world**_

The tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn't turn off the radio, she was paralysed with the emotions, and by the truths that were hitting too close too home, and all she wanted was for all of this too end, all of the seventeen years of pain, all of the memories, and for him to just get out of her life. She'd be damned if he ruined her life again.


	3. Miscommunication

A/N- Sorry about the long wait, I've been really busy, and unfortunately writing has taken a back-seat, and will continue to do so for the rest of the year. Thankyou to all who have alerted this story/ added it to their favourites, because it means a lot to me. Also, I don't usually ask for reviews, but please, if you are/have done either of those things, I would love a review, because I love criticism (constructive) also, if there are any ideas for the story- that would be good.

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**Chapter 3- Miscommunication**

_Some kind of magic,_

_Hypnotic, hypnotic,_

_You're leaving me breathless,_

_I hate this, I hate this,_

_You're not the one I believe in,_

_With God as my witness._

**I Caught Myself - Paramore**

Cameron was asleep on her couch, escaping from the reality of the day, finally in a place where Tusker was just a nightmare, and the world didn't exist.

She was woken by the doorbell, she sat up, half afraid to answer the door, unsure of who it was, unsure of what to expect. She didn't want any company, she wanted to spend the evening alone, processing the day, and figuring out a plan on how to move forward.

She gathered the courage to walk to the door, to find one Greg House standing there, looking uncomfortable.

'House.'

'Cameron.'

'What are you doing here?'

'Seeing how you were.'

'I'm fine. Thanks for coming.'

She began to close the door, but his cane stopped her.

'You're not fine.'

'Is that a question, or an observation?' She asked, knowing she was probably not going to get an answer worth listening to.

'You're not fine, and I know this has got to be hard on you-'

'Do you really know? Do you know what it's like to be stabbed and left for dead? Do you know what it is like to go through six months of excruciatingly painful physical therapy? Do you know what it's like to go through a court case, where you have to face your attacker? Where your story is in constant doubt, and you feel like you are a monkey in a zoo enclosure? That you may have to see the person who hurt you on the street, and hope to God they don't recognise you?'

'No.' House was observing her face, and noticed the years of pain and hurt on her face, and realised in some capacity, he may not have added to it, but he may have stopped it going away.

'I didn't think so. The thing is House, you think you are always right, and for the most part you are. This time, however you are not, so just let it fucking go, and go.'

'I can't do that. I brought food, and I don't think you've eaten a lot today..'

It was then she noticed the Chinese takeaway bag in his hand and the smell coming from it.

'Did you get beef and black bean?'

'If I say yes, will you let me in?' House replied, a hint of snark in his voice.

Cameron rolled her eyes and opened the door to let him.

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'Why did you really come tonight House?' Cameron turned to look at House, wanting his true answer to the question.

'To see how you were.' House set his beer back on the coffee table next to his feet.

'You don't usually care about others, unless they have something you don't know.'

She looked intently at House, trying to gage his reactions, the one on his face validated what she was saying.

'I'm right aren't I? You want to know what happened seventeen years ago. Well, I'm not up for telling that story again today, you'll just have to wait.'

'Okay.'

'I know you know how it feels to feel like you're dying, but, how did you bounce back from it?'

'That's also a story for another night.' House replied, not wanting to go into that conversation tonight.

'Okay. What happened between you and Wilson today? I heard about it, but..' She trailed off, waiting for him to reply.

'That's a story for tonight.' He had the beginnings of a smile on his face.

'He had feelings of repressed guilt over Amber, and I was his outlet. He punched me, and I caned him in the crotch.'

'That explains the bruise on your eyebrow, and the fact Wilson was walking around weird, talking in a higher octave for the rest of the day.'

A smile began to form on her face, but stopped as she blurted out her next thought.

'That also explains why you are here, and not at Wilson's. You should just tell him you are sorry.' Cameron replied simply.

'That means admitting I did something wrong.' The word 'wrong' felt wrong coming out of House's mouth, it wasn't one he usually associated himself with.

'No, it doesn't. It means you are sorry for Ambers death, you're not admitting any responsibility for it. You're sorry for her being on the bus, that she was in the crash. But it was her choice to get on the bus, her choice to pick you up, and her choice to give you back your cane. She could've stayed at home, or made you get in her car.'

Her rationality seemed to have slightly angered House, but for once she didn't care because it was the truth.

'Don't you think I know that? I'm sorry that she died, yeah, but I did everything I could to save her. I shouldn't be apologising to him for that.'

The animosity of that sentence startled Cameron but she didn't let that show.

'Maybe you should be telling Wilson that, not me. I don't blame you for her death, and I don't think anyone else does either, and I think deep down, Wilson doesn't either.'

'I don't like the philosophical side of you very much.'

'I don't much either, but you've got to believe in something, otherwise, everything else falls apart. And that's when we fall apart.'

House nodded and they both sat back into the couch, realising that the television had been on the whole time and neither had realised, because they were so absorbed in their lives.

**A/N- Apologies for the short chapter.**


End file.
